Vault 713
by LittleBabeBlue
Summary: 713 drabbles, 713 words each. A collection of plot rhinoceroses, unrelated musings, and what actually happened to those poor people stuck in Gringott's vaults.


**Vault 713**

LittleBabeBlue

_713 drabbles, 713 words each. A collection of plot rhinoceroses, unrelated musings, and what actually happened to those poor people stuck in Gringott's vaults. _

Disclaimer: I still live with my parents, need I say any more?

Word: Cliff

AN: Cliffs became falling off cliffs, Falling off cliffs turned into falling off the astronomy tower, which in turn turned into this. Deal.

Nobody knows her secret. She knows she should tell someone, in case something went horribly wrong, but she can't bring herself to share this part of her life, not even with her best friend. She didn't know what she would do if they tried to stop her.

The curtains on her bed rustle, and a pale foot searches for a shoe as she grabs her wand at her bedside table. She doesn't look rumpled and disheveled, like she's just gotten out of bed but is wearing clothes, with her hair tied back. Someone in another bed stirs sleepily, and she freezes by the door. They simply mumble about their mother and go back to sleep. The door closes behind her as she slips out.

Quietly, she tiptoes down the stairs, stopping at every flickering shadow. It would be easy to explain why she was down here if she was caught, but it would ruin her chances of doing _that _again. She looks around, but sees nothing but empty chairs and firelight. Crossing the room, she heads for a nondescript box shoved underneath the couch. Just looking at it made her happy. Wryly, she supposed she could be considered a form of junkie, as she couldn't seem to shake this particular need.

The box slid from under the couch easily, leaving a swath of clean in the dust under the furniture. She reached in, grasping the handle and pulled it out. Her broom reflected the firelight, casting warm and vague shadows across her cheeks as she inspected it. A glitter of gold on the end caught her eye and she traced the now familiar letters that spelled out _Firebolt. _Grasping the broom in her hand, she rose, kicking the box back, and headed for the portrait hole. Sometimes, being nice to the guardian of the dorm paid off, a simple question, asked politely, could tell you exactly when she was going to go for a drink with her friend and leave the portrait hole unmanned.

She slipped out and padded through the halls, broom in hand. A sudden gust of wind through a slightly open window made her shiver, but it wasn't from the cold. She went up stairways and through corridors, and just as she was passing the library, she heard a voice. She didn't bother to look at who it was, she immediately turned and wedged herself behind a suit of armor, hiding her from view entirely. The voices got closer, echoing in the hallway. Briefly she pictured what would happen if she was caught, they would take her broom, of that she was certain, likely remove her status as prefect, and possibly send her home to be kept under watch, tethered to the ground. Unconsciously, her breathing quickened, becoming louder and louder until she had to cover her mouth with her own hand to stop the humanoid shadows, only feet away, from finding her.

Suddenly they were gone. She waited a few minutes before peering around a metal arm and moving out into the hallway again. She didn't remember the rest of the journey to her destination, only the _need_ that had pushed her to get there. She threw open a door and was bathed in the cold moonlight and wind. She had reached the Astronomy tower. She nearly ran to the nearest edge and leaned over it, inhaling the scent and feel of wind on her skin. It made her feel alive, her blood quick in her veins, her mind cold and clear. The stars overhead shone steadily as she gripped her broom tightly in her right hand, stepping onto the lip of the tower. Wind swirled around her, lifting her hair and whipping it into space behind her head. Slowly, she leaned forward, the wind caressing her body, begging her to come play.

And then she was in space. And she was hurtling towards the ground, with nothing supporting her but the wind. For this was what she was addicted to, this rush of adrenalin, the cold wind that made her feel alive, and the knowledge that she was taking her own life in her hands. _If she had wings_, she vowed, _she would never touch the ground_._ Well, maybe once or twice. But only to jump off cliffs._


End file.
